


lost in japan (extra festive edition)

by missakwatson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 12 Days of Sterek, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Fluff, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 18:10:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16938177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missakwatson/pseuds/missakwatson
Summary: “I still hate that I’m missing Christmas,” Stiles said with a sigh.And your birthday,though he knew Derek didn’t need the added reminder. “OurfirstChristmas.”***Pure established-Sterek fluff, written especially for the 12 Days of Sterek 2018!





	lost in japan (extra festive edition)

**Author's Note:**

> Back again for a second year of pure fluff (including some hand-wavey timing and travel mechanics — just don't worry about it, okay?). Since I'm apparently incapable of writing (or at least titling) fics without the assistance of song lyrics, this was of course inspired by my angel Shawn Mendes' song [Lost in Japan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ycy30LIbq4w). I hope you enjoy!

“So what are you wearing?" 

Stiles laughed, tipping his head back as he shifted the phone between his shoulder and ear so he could reach down to unlace his dress shoes.

“Nothing, if you give me about five minutes. But I did wear that tie you gave me for my birthday,” he replied, barely containing a relieved sigh as he pushed off his shoes and leaned back onto the overstuffed mattress.

He heard Derek’s low chuckle on the other end of the line, a sound that still managed to make his stomach flutter.

“The one that —”

“— that you think matches my eyes, even though my eyes are brown, and the tie is—”

“— gray, with _gold thread_ , which _does_ match your eyes, because they’re amber,” Derek finished decisively. Stiles couldn’t help but grin at the smile he heard in his husband’s voice, picturing the bright flash of teeth and feathered lines at the corners of his eyes.

“Right. That one. What about you?” Stiles asked, idly loosening the tie in question as he stared up at the ceiling.

Derek huffed. “Boxers. And the fuzzy Christmas socks I stole from Erica during Dirty Santa.”

“Still mad I missed it,” Stiles said. Dirty Santa with the pack had gained a reputation for rowdiness, and a unilateral “no claws” rule had been implemented after Derek and Erica’s tussle over a set of reusable shopping bags the year before. _They’re_ practical, _Stiles,_ Derek grumbled on the walk home. Stiles had just laughed and laughed, slipping his arms around his fiancée.

“I know,” Derek replied, voice soft. “But it’s okay. Erica is insisting on a New Year’s rematch because she ended up with a potato peeler.”

“I still hate that I’m missing Christmas,” Stiles said with a sigh. _And your birthday_ , though he knew Derek didn’t need the added reminder. “Our _first_ Christmas.”

“It’s our fifth Christmas, Stiles. It’s okay,” Derek said, and Stiles could hear the smile in his voice again, gentle and teasing, and that made his stomach swoop. Derek, of all people, could still make him feel giddy after half a decade.

“You know what I mean,” Stiles grumbled.

“I know. But this meeting is just a couple days, and it’s an opportunity you might not get again,” Derek said. They’d had multiple iterations of this conversation ever since the issue came up, and Stiles loved Derek for the genuine, patient reassurance he offered each and every time.

“Plus,” Derek added, “You know you would be too busy texting Danny every five minutes to ask how things were going if you weren’t there.”

Stiles couldn’t really argue with that, and Derek knew it.

“Listen, Der, we’re working on the control issues thing,” Stiles said, and they both couldn’t help but laugh and the only (very) partial truth.

“Well, then maybe this is a lesson,” Derek offered. “You can’t control everything. Especially not an office of Japanese software executives’ scheduling.”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.”

They chatted idly for a few more minutes, until they both realized that Stiles was doing more yawning than talking and was bound to drift off any moment. With such a short trip, he was no match for the jet lag that caught up to him as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

“Go to bed, Stiles,” Derek murmured. 

“’Kay. Love you, Der,” Stiles slurred, eyes heavy.

“I love you too. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Derek answered.

_Wednesday,_ Stiles thought as Derek hung up with a _click_ , but he was too tired to vocalize the words. _Not home ‘til Wednesday._ Before he could think any more of it, he finally let his eyes drift shut.

***

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Stiles buried his head further into his pillow – well, pile of pillows – and valiantly attempted to ignore the rhythmic sound disrupting his sleep before he realized that the sound was someone knocking on his hotel room door.

_What time is it, fu—_

“Room service,” came a firm, polite voice from the hallway.

_Thank God,_ Stiles thought as the pounding momentarily ceased, head briefly sagging back into the pillows.

As his brain slowly caught up with his body, though, Stiles snatched his phone off the bedside table and stared at it with a blank frown. It was only 8:30 in the morning, and Stiles’ alarm wasn’t set to go off for another hour, when he was supposed to meet Danny downstairs for breakfast and one last-minute debrief before their closing lunch meeting with the software team. He _definitely_ hadn’t ordered room service — unless Danny had ordered it for him, worried about Stiles’ ability to actually rise with his alarm. But why hadn’t he just requested a wakeup call? Stiles frowned again, scrubbing his hands over his eyes before rolling off the bed and lurching to the door. He pulled it open roughly, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the morning light.

“Holy shit,” Stiles breathed, squinting as if it would help his brain process what his eyes were seeing.

On the other side of the door stood Derek, smiling so radiantly it put the morning sunlight to shame.

“Merry Christmas,” said Derek. Another split second of shock passed before Stiles realized _this is real, Derek is here, Derek is_ here, and he flung himself as gracelessly as possible into his husband’s arms.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles gasped, hardly able to formulate any more coherent thoughts. “Holy shit. Holy _shit_ , Derek.” Inexplicable tears pricked at the corners of Stiles’ eyes, an entire week of stress, jet lag, and late-night phone calls coalescing into one moment of pure emotion.

Derek leaned into the embrace, hands rubbing practiced circles into Stiles’ shoulders. “Hey, baby,” he whispered gently into Stiles’ ear. “Sorry to wake you up.”

Stiles pulled back a few inches, just enough to poke an accusatory pointer finger into Derek’s field of vision. “You asshole! What the hell? You…” He trailed off, losing his train of thought to the absolute joy Derek’s sparkling hazel eyes brought him. Instead, they both laughed, foreheads resting together.

“I mean, I can leave, if that’s what you want,” Derek said earnestly, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Absolutely not,” Stiles replied. “Bed. Now.”

They somehow made it back into the room still tangled in one another’s’ arms, mostly thanks to Derek’s supernatural grace and ability to support Stiles’ weight. Stiles spread over Derek like a particularly cuddly starfish the moment they both hit the bed, the motion swift from years of practice.

“I love you. Jesus Christ, I love you.” Stiles lifted his face from Derek’s neck to look into his eyes. “Merry Christmas. And happy birthday,” he added, squeezing Derek a little tighter.

“Thanks, baby,” Derek answered, pressing a firm kiss to Stiles’ forehead.

“When did you get here?” Stiles asked. “And how long have you planned this? Wait, did Danny know you were doing this?” It would be just like the two of them to conspire on something utterly _sweet_ , as long as it confused the shit out of Stiles in the process.

Derek laughed. “Danny knew. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to disrupt any of your meetings. He said you all would be mostly done by today, and it would be— How did he put it? I think it was, ‘disgustingly cute, but very on-brand.’” He smoothed Stiles’ hair down before absently cupping the back of his neck, thumb running soft patterns on Stiles’ skin. 

“Son of a bitch,” Stiles muttered. “You two really think of everything.”

“So you’re not mad?” Derek asked. His tone was lighthearted, but Stiles knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t ask if there wasn’t at least a hint of concern.

Stiles pressed his lips to Derek’s neck, the closest expanse of skin he could find. “Never, in a million years. I missed you so fucking much, Der, and I was only gone for like three days.”

“I missed you too. The house gets too cold without you stomping around and complaining about the temperature,” Derek said.

“Sixty degrees is too fucking cold for the winter, even if—” 

“—we live in California—” 

“—Even if we live in California! Not all of us are werewolves,” Stiles finished firmly. 

“Fine. When we get home, I’ll let you complain as much as you want.” 

“See, babe, this is why our marriage works,” said Stiles.

Derek hummed in agreement. “Go back to sleep,” he said softly. “You still have a half hour before you need to get ready.”

“’Mmkay,” Stiles agreed, already drowsy now that he was back in Derek’s arms. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Derek said softly. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate each and every one of you immensely, and I hope you have a restful and wonderful winter, however and if you celebrate. Feel free to swing by my Tumblr, [sourwolfandlionheart](http://sourwolfandlionheart.tumblr.com/) and gush about Sterek with me any time!


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